Dear Angel
by blacksouledbutterfly
Summary: A simple game. Two determined players. One unbelievable outcome. Two lives forever altered.
1. The Game Begins

_My name is Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, son of Astoria Greengrass and Draco Malfoy. Over the years the identity of my father has caused a stir amongst some. Being directly related to more than one Death Eater wasn't something most people considered to be favorable. Not that it bothered me, of course. My family was my family. Whoever didn't like it could shove off._

It was rather early on that I discovered that the sins of the father often reflect on the son. I had only been attending Hogwarts for a matter of weeks when it became abundantly clear that the children of my father's former classmates- the ones he was rather unfriendly with of course- would hold against me who my father was. I hadn't intended to befriend any of them, of course. It was just rather pathetic that they associated me with the actions of my family when they hadn't even gotten a chance to know whether or not their assumptions were correct.

No, I hadn't intended on getting close to any of them- not the children of the Potter and Weasley families. My time was better spent avoiding them and their ridiculous opinions of who I was. Those opinions they formed based upon who my father- and most likely my grandfather- happened to be.

It wasn't until fifth year that I was even in close contact with any of them. Rose Weasley- a know it all just like her mother had apparently been- was the one to manage to maneuver her way into my life. How she had managed to do that I'm not even sure, but she waltzed right into it like she belonged there, taking every opportunity she could to project herself further into my being.

I had thought she was a rather innocent one- always with the sweet smiles and the smart answers. But looks, I found out the hard way, were often deceiving. It was always the innocent ones that surprised you, because even the innocent could be cruel. Even the innocent could learn just how to break a person down. 

Scorpius Malfoy couldn't help but study her with a great intensity. It fascinated him to watch her as she concentrated, the end of her quill brushing against her bottom lip, the feather making a lazy line across her skin as she read the page in front of her, lips parted slightly, tongue just barely visible between her teeth. He wasn't sure it if was more amusing or more, well, hot for lack of a better term. He couldn't help but wonder if she concentrated on everything in her life as much as she did this.

Her gaze lifted and met his, blue eyes calm and empty. This wasn't the first time he had been caught looking at her- nor would it be the last he was sure- but every time her gaze rose to meet his he couldn't help but wonder at the fact that she had known he was looking at her. He was pretty sure he wasn't being overtly obvious about it, but he could have been mistaken. It was entirely possible that he was horrid at hiding his fascination with her.

Her eyelids dropped half way and she looked at him from under her eyelashes. The quill moved to the corner of her mouth as her tongue slipped out, licking her lips. He swallowed harshly, watching this girl's every move. She was aware, he decided then, of every single time his gaze moved to her, of every single thought inside of his head even. She knew his gaze had followed her tongue across that bottom lip as though in slow motion. She knew, he was sure, she he briefly pictured himself running his tongue over the same line hers had just gone. That he wanted to press his lips against hers, make her whimper and pant and cling to his shirt as though it were her only lifeline in this world. He was positive that she had some kind of a scheme brewing up inside of her head, but what it was he had absolutely no clue.

Then, her gaze left his face as she turned to look at her cousin. Her lips barely parted as they whispered, her head bowed down close to his. He tried to figure out what they were saying by following the shapes their lips made, but hers were moving too slightly to be deciphered.

She wasn't stunningly beautiful he noted. Of course she wasn't unattractive either, but there was nothing about her that would make someone stop on the street and do a double take. Well, perhaps her eyes would draw some attention- they were bright and lovely and he could imagine that people took notice to that, but beyond that she was on the more attractive side of average. And yet there was something about her that had drawn him in, made him unable to stop himself when the desire to look at her rose up inside of him. Even now as she had her head bent towards her cousin, whispering in his ear, he couldn't bring himself to look away.

Then her eyes shifted to him, gazing at him with her peripheral vision. The edge of her mouth curled up, threatening to spill forth into an honest to goodness smile. And as quickly as her eyes had jumped to him they shifted back to the paper in front of her, quill running a line across her bottom lip every so often as she read. But his eyes remained on her, unable to bring himself to turn away. 

She was waiting in the hallway. He noticed her the moment he stepped outside, her back pressed against one of the windowsills, legs stretched out in front of her and crossed at the ankles. She had her elbows resting on the wood behind her, arching her back slightly. Her head was tilted slightly to one side, her hair falling over one shoulder. Everything about her was screaming casual- save the smile on her face. It was sexual and alluring. And her gaze was directly on him. "You were watching me in class again today."

He strode across the hall, closing the distance between them so others wouldn't be able to hear their conversation. The last thing he needed was for word to get around that he was lusting after a Weasley. Of course it wasn't that far from the truth but that was neither here nor there. "I watch people every day," he replied coolly. "What makes you think you were a special case?"

"You watch me often." Her hand shot up, gripping the bottom of his tie, playing with it as though she had done that a million times before. "Do I fascinate you that much?"

He leaned forward, resting one hand on the wood right next to her hip. The action didn't put them that close but he was sure anyone who was passing by would mistake it for a little rendezvous between lovers rather than a rather strange conversation between classmates. "Girls fascinate me. You're all rather strange creatures, you know. But that thing you do is rather…amusing."

"What thing might that be?"

"With your quill. You run it over your lip, you know. Like you're caressing yourself with it."

"It feels nice." It was such a simple and yet seemingly honest answer that he almost laughed right then and there. Of course it felt nice, but the answer wasn't what he had expected. He expected her to deny doing it all that often or to question why he even paid that close attention to what she was doing. But that answer? It wasn't something he ever would have expected from Rose Weasley. "I rather enjoy it."

"Other things would feel better than that, you know." He would admit to himself that yes, he _was_ flirting with her, but it was harmless. He meant nothing by it and he was sure she would realize that on her own, but it was rather fun at times to flirt around with girls and see how they reacted. Often times they would blush and giggle like their heads were filled with air.

That didn't happen with her however, much to his great surprise. Her cheeks didn't stain with a dark crimson nor did she break down into a fit of giggles like some simpering school girl with a crush. No, instead a slow smile spread over her face. "Other things, huh?"

"Yes. Many things, actually."

"What sorts of things?"

"Can't figure that one out for yourself, Weasley? Need people to spell it out for you?"

"Humor me, Malfoy." She tugged slightly on his tie, pulling his face closer to his. Her breath was warm on his face and if his gaze flickered down he could see the pink of her gum moving around behind her teeth. "Pretend I'm one of those idiotic girls that fall over every word you say and enlighten me."

"Are you aware, Weasley, of just how close we are to one another at this very moment? This could cause quite the scandal."

"And here I thought you enjoyed a good scandal. Isn't that the Malfoy way?"

"I suppose it can be," he conceded, inclining his head slightly as though he were in thought. "I heard in his school years my father had a bit of…I guess you could call it a flare for the dramatic."

"From what I hear your father was an outright prat."

"That's how some people would have classified him, yes." His gaze returned to her face, but the expression in his eyes had changed, going from mild amusement to annoyance in a flash. "And I suppose your family told you this. Don't bother answering the question, Weasley, I know the answer. But what your family never did was actually try to learn anything about who my father was beyond the theatrics. He, like them, was a child. Like we are. And children, they tend to do stupid things, don't they? Look at the things your family got into while they were in school."

"There's no need to be defensive." Her tone hadn't changed. She seemed as though she were playing some game. It was a bit unnerving. "I'm not trying to insult you, Malfoy. I would have to say you're definitely less of a prat than your father supposedly was in school. Still a prat, mind you, but not nearly as bad. Tolerable even."

"Was that supposed to be a compliment or an insult, Weasley?"

"A backhanded compliment, actually. Does that bother you?"

"Not really. I'm actually rather used to it by now." But he dropped his book bag to the floor and reached over, gently prying her fingers off of his tie like he was suddenly disgusted by being that close to her. "I'm rather used to it, as you well know. You're not the only one who regards my family as villainous, you know."

"Loved by some, hated by others. Aren't we all that way?"

"My you're being philosophical. How…adorable." Once he had pried her fingers off of his tie and the strip of fabric was free he smoothed it down, eyes staying fixed on her face. "Some of us are hated more than others, you know."

"Yes, I suppose that's very true." Her mouth spread out into that smile again, her eyes shining with amusement and mischief. "You didn't answer me before, you know."

"About what?"

"What would feel better."

"As I said: a great many things. Don't hold so much stock in a feather." His hand shot up quick enough to make her blink and he ran the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip. "But you're going to have to figure those things out for yourself."

"Are you that naïve, Malfoy?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"I already know the answer to the question. I just wanted to see if you were brave enough to say it." The sparkle in her eyes seemed to get brighter, so much so that he found himself unable to look away. Then her tongue slid out from between her parted lips, lashing quickly across the pad of his thumb before she was gently moving him back from her, watching him struggle to walk backwards without stumbling. "I know a great deal of things, Malfoy. Maybe, if you're lucky, you'll figure me out one day. But I think not."

Scorpius drew his hand to his chest as he watched her go down the halls, hips swinging in a way he could tell was natural and not practiced like so many other girls. Rose Weasley, he had decided, was a mystery. And he was determined to figure her out.

Let the games begin.


	2. Tell Me The Answer

Nearly a week after Rose had basically dared Scorpius to figure her out had passed and he still hadn't spoken to her again. It wasn't a conscious choice not to speak to her, it was more of a coincidental thing than anything. He had been spending time with his friends and his Quidditch team while she was spending most of her time with her cousins and her brother.

The only times that they were even in the same room with each other was when they were either in class together or in the great hall for dinner. The still didn't speak to each other while they were there together but there were times when Rose would just look over at him with this strange type of smile on her face, almost like both a challenge and an invitation at the same time though he wasn't quite sure if it was one more than the other or what exactly she was challenging him to do. He could definitely speculate about it what the challenge was he didn't quite think it was the best thing to do. If he guessed incorrectly there was a very good chance that he would make a complete and total fool of himself.

It was one day after Quidditch practice when he finally spoke to Rose. He had been walking with the rest of his team back towards the school after changing in the locker room, taking their time to wander across the grounds, more trying to avoid having to go back to the common room and work on their homework for the next day's classes. No matter how important they knew their homework technically was they wanted to put it off as long as they could.

He had spotted her sitting with her back pressed against one of the trees that looked out on the great lake, one leg stretched out in front of her, one curled close to her chest and no longer in uniform, the denim of her jeans pale in the sunlight. So he excused himself then from where he was with his teammates and made his way over towards where she was sitting, glancing a couple of times over his shoulder to look at the others as they made their way to the school, knowing that they'd all give him a hard time if they knew that he was going over to speak to Rose Weasley of all people.

He didn't even ask if she minded his company before he sat down next to her under that tree, glancing over at her as she kept her nose buried in the book she had in her hands. In the few times that he can remember his father ever talking about her parents he remembers distinctly that her mother supposedly did the same thing constantly, kept her nose buried in a book like it was the most important thing in the world to her to continue reading and not really associate with the other students. But unlike how her mother supposedly would do he saw Rose continually look at him out of the corner of her eyes, a small smile threatening to spill across her face at any moment though she kept fighting it.

It was after about fifteen minutes of complete silence that she finally spoke, eyes never leaving the book in her hands, her voice completely casual and almost disinterested. "How does it feel to be the son of a Death Eater?"

There was surprisingly no judgment in her voice when she asked, no hint of criticism like he would have heard in her friend's voices were they to ask her the same thing. It was startling and at the same time oddly comforting. It was nice for once to have someone not seem to be judging him based upon who his family happened to be. See seemed to be more curious than anything

"He's my father," he told her, his own legs bent towards his body, arms resting on his bent knees, sitting in a completely relaxed manner like they often sat like this and had conversations which wasn't even close to the truth. They never really spoke at all. "I don't think about his being a Death Eater. He's just my father."

He studied her for a moment, watching the way the light hit her face and illuminated some parts while casting other parts into shadow. "Shouldn't I be the one asking how it feels to have parents like yours? You and your famous parents."

"My uncle is the famous one," she corrected, her voice still casual and calm. She closed the book and put it down on the grass next to her, turning her torso so she could look over at him, arching one of her eyebrows. "Harry Potter is the famous one in my family, Malfoy. Not my parents. Surely you should know that." There was something akin to teasing in her voice, like he'd just made a big mistake by assuming her parents were famous.

"Everyone knows who your parents are," he insisted, turning a little himself to look at her. "They might not be as famous as your uncle but they're still famous. In a century everyone will still know who they are. That's being famous, Weasley. You might not believe that it is but I assure you that you're wrong."

She watched him for a long while, her head tilted slightly to the side, hair falling over one shoulder. Somehow she managed to look both beautiful and adorable; both naïve and yet undeniably sexual. It wasn't an easy balance; it wasn't a balance you found very often either.

"I want to know something," she announced after a moment, hands resting on the ground in front of her legs, palms pressed flat against the ground.

There was absolutely nothing in her voice that him even guess what it was that she wanted to know which was a bit unnerving to be honest. Most of the time he could read people pretty well but this time was different; this time he couldn't read the person he was with at all. He wasn't sure if he liked not being about to read her, wasn't sure if he could trust her not to ask something embarrassing or actually _try_ to embarrass him in some way. But that wasn't really something he wanted to think about, wasn't an idea he wanted to entertain. So he didn't let himself worry about it too much, merely nodded his head a little bit. "Alright," he said. "Then ask me."

He knew as soon as the words left his mouth and the edge of her mouth twitched slightly, threatening to turn into an actual smile that she was up to no good though he couldn't quite pinpoint what exactly it was that she was up to. He just knew that whatever it was couldn't be good; he knew that she was probably going to embarrass him a great deal and make him regret that he said she could ask him something. But Scorpius Malfoy wasn't a coward and he'd only look like one if he backed down and told her that he changed his mind.

"It's a very personal question," she warned him, sitting up on her knees and leaning closer to him, her head still tilted in that naïve/sexual way that was oh so confusing to him.

"I gathered it would be."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"Not really." It was a lie, of course. it bothered him a bit to have her want to ask him something that even she admitted was personal simply because when people say they want to ask you a personal question that usually meant it would either shock you into silence or embarrass you so much that you blushed bright red and remained red for quite some time afterwards. And to be honest he had never really been the type to blush in all honesty the last thing that he would want would be for her to make him do so.

"Good." There was something close to real satisfaction in her voice, like she hadn't been sure that he would let her ask him something personal. It makes him feel even more uneasy because that just means that what he was going to ask her is most likely just as embarrassing as he had thought it could be. Its not a very comforting thought but he's still not about to back down and let her think that he was some great big coward who couldn't even handle having a girl ask him a simple question.

Her hand moved through the grass and towards him, moving like a small animal stalking its prey and then her hand moved up to rest on his knee, her face completely innocent even as she leaned closer to him, her face just a breadth away from his, her breath warm on his face. "I was wondering something about you," she says slowly, her voice calm and in a way almost breathy, almost like the type of tone that someone would use when they were trying to seduce someone though he didn't think that was even _close_ to what Rose had in mind. "It actually came up when some of us girls were talking in the common room."

"You're staling," he accused.

"No, not at all," she argued. "I'm building up the suspense. It's so very fun to watch you squirm, wondering what it is that I'm going to ask you." He should have figured that she was enjoying making him wonder but he was too busy trying to guess what she was going to ask him to think about that as well. "We were wondering this about several different guys, actually. I'm merely in the position to ask you about it myself."

"Then by all means: go ahead and ask."

"Alright." She smiled then, completely innocent though there was this look in her eyes that was anything _but_ innocent. It was definitely mischievous, perhaps even dangerous but nowhere _near_ as innocent as her voice was. "I was wondering: are you a _virgin_, Scorpius?"

The oxygen caught in his throat and he nearly choked on his own saliva because he had to admit that he hadn't expected that in the slightest. He hadn't expected her to ask her anything like that. He wasn't sure what he thought she _was_ going to ask him but it certainly wasn't that. He wouldn't have guessed that in a million years. It actually makes his palms sweat and makes him actually feel like being the coward he didn't want her to think he was and just taking off back to the school without answering her. Of course then word would get around that he was not only a wimp but they'd also probably think he was completely and totally prude for not being willing to answer the question and wouldn't that just be _fantastic_?

"You all were wondering if I was a virgin?"

"Not just you," she reminded him. "We were wondering about several of our male classmates, actually. Trying to figure out which ones had ventured beyond the area of innocence when it came to girls." He watched her as she spoke to him, watched her as she shifted, her hand still on his knee but her body moving so that she was in front of him, her knees resting between where his feet were. "Don't you ever wonder about anyone? Don't you ever look at some of the people we go to school with and question whether or not they've ventured beyond purity?"

And of course as soon as she asked him that it made him wonder about _her_, made him wonder just how innocent little Rose Weasley was or just how corrupted she was. And neither one really seemed to fit for her. He couldn't imagine her being completely and totally naïve but he also couldn't imagine her being all that corrupt. Neither one seemed to suit her and yet both of them did at the same time because she just had this balance about her where he just couldn't guess. She had this seductive charm and yet the ability to come across as completely and totally innocent.

"I guess I wonder about some people sometimes," he conceded, nodding his head a little bit. If she asked him _who_ then he wouldn't tell her because she didn't need to know that she had just gotten him to wonder about her. It would have just made the whole situation a little bit more bizarre.

"So then why is it so surprising that we would wonder about you?"

"I guess it really isn't when you put it that way."

"No, it really isn't," she agreed unnecessarily, smiling a little bit. "Not really so surprising at all." And that's when she tried, quite obviously, to make him extremely uncomfortable because she moved his arms away from his legs and slid forward, placing herself between them, pressing her body closer to his, resting herself in between his legs, her nose nearly pressed against his. "So, tell me: _are you_ a virgin, Scorpius?" The edge of her mouth twitched into an almost smile, her lips nearly touching his but not making contact, not letting herself make contact with him, like she's really just playing a game which he thinks she just might be. He may just be a big pawn in a little game of hers. "Are you?"

He swallowed hard again, his eyes jumping down to her lips and then back up, meeting her mischievous blue eyes. His mouth feet dry; his tongue felt like lead in his mouth. "No," he heard himself saying before he even realized he was actually going to answer her. "No, I'm not."

"No?" she intoned. She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth almost disappointedly. "Naughty boy."

"Are _you_ a virgin?"

Her head dipped down, her mouth brushing against his and then almost too quickly for him to process it she leaned back from him, reaching over and taking her book in her hand. "I never told you I'd answer any of _your_ questions," she reminded him and then stood up quickly but somehow very gracefully and smiled down at him, a twisted and amused sort of smile. "And I thought you were supposed to be figuring me out not asking me to fill you in."

And then she did the most unexpected thing- she winked at him and stepped over his legs, heading off towards the school, never once looking back even as his eyes remained on her the entire time.

_Score one for you_, he thought as she started to vanish from sight. _You won this round._


	3. Quid Pro Quo

He found that the situations that can bring people together could often be the strangest and the least likely. You can spend almost all of your time around specific people without ever speaking to them; you can see a person every day of your life and not say a word to them and then _something_ happens and all of a sudden you're drawn together, you end up speaking to them and talking to them and from that day on the course of your world shifts just a little bit. That's what had happened with Rose; that's what had set this whole strange series of events into motion. At first he never even spoke to her, at first he would scarcely even look at her from across the room. He had been casually kind to her every once in a while but he never really spoke to her. And then she had approached him in the hall that day and dared him to figure her out and it was like flicking that first domino, the one that makes the whole lot of them fall down. She had been the domino that day in the hall and the rest of his life afterwards had been the line of them.

Three days after she had asked him if he was a virgin or not he hadn't spoken to her again, at least not yet. He had spent most of that time wondering why it was that she would actually want to know that about him, why she would care at all about whether or not he happened to be a virgin. And he realized that answering her was probably a bad idea, that it really wasn't any of her business that he wasn't a virgin anymore. It wasn't anyone's business but his. And, of course, whomever he had gone and shagged. But it certainly wasn't _her_ business and yet he had answered her. And she hadn't returned the favor and answered _him_.

And so it made him wonder the entire time why she had opted not to answer him, what she was trying to hide and whether or not she was, in fact, a virgin or not a virgin and why she had felt the need to hide the answer either way. If she _was_ a virgin then he figured that maybe she was embarrassed by that fact. And if she _wasn't_ them maybe she was embarrassed by that as well, maybe it had been a very bad experience for her or something of the like but whatever the reason he kept wondering over and over again whether she was or wasn't; he kept wondering why she hadn't answered him after he had asked her and he knew that it was probably intentional, that she had avoiding answering him just to annoy him.

At this point he realized that nothing Rose could do would probably be surprising to him, that she was definitely what you would consider a complex person. There are people in the world that you can understand with very little effort and people that you couldn't understand no matter how hard you tried and he was starting to believe that Rose fell into the second category, that he could try for the rest of his life to understand her and it would never, ever happen. It was frustrating and fascinating and infuriating and a million and three things all rolled up in one. He wasn't sure why he even wanted to understand her anymore except that he didn't understand her, that was this big puzzle that he seemed to be missing half of the pieces of.

He hadn't told anyone about Rose's little challenge or her little game of 'lets confuse the hell out of Scorpius', hadn't thought that it would be important to tell them. And to be honest, he didn't think his friends would understand _why_ he was willing to play her little game. It wasn't as though he had to understand her for any reason. Sure, in some small way he had been fascinated by her since they were first years but he's positive that's simply because she was such a mystery to him. Had she been even remotely easy to figure out then he was sure she would be pretty much static in the background to him. But when someone is basically impossible to figure out that makes him just want to try even harder to understand them, makes him want to pick apart the strings and get to the basics of who they are.

He had let his mind forget about that all during the first Quidditch game of the season, focusing on the game. It hadn't been that difficult of a game- games against Hufflepuff rarely are- but it had made him focus on something other than the game, made him focus on the yellow of their uniforms and the feel of the broom between his legs; made him focus on the air rushing around him as he moved through the air, made him focus on a million other things that didn't involve Rose Weasley and her naïve/seductive smiles and her game and her personal questions that she refused to answer about herself.

Slytherin had beat Hufflepuff, predictably, and the teams had gone to their respective locker rooms and changed back into their clothes, his team talking about the game and congratulating themselves on their victory while the Hufflepuffs all talked about Merlin knows what. And then slowly the players started to file out of the room until it was basically empty, all them just wanting to get back to the school so they could bathe because despite what people seemed to think playing Quidditch could build up a pretty good sweat.

"You all played quite well," he heard as soon as he stepped out of the locker room prompting him to turn slightly to find Rose Weasley, the very same mysterious bird that had been frustrating him to almost no end walking along the root of a rather big tree, her feet moving delicately over it like a ballet dancer, her bare soles collecting dirt against her pale skin. He was pretty sure that given the time of year the ground was probably rather cool and thus chilled her skin but she didn't seem to notice it, just kept walking along the root to the end and then stepped gracefully off of it, pressing her toes into the dirt first and then lowering it down until her heel pressed down as well and then her gaze turned up towards his face, her blue eyes dancing with some sort of mischief that he couldn't quite place but he knew that look already because she had the same look on her face when she had told him she wanted to know something about him and then she had asked him whether or not he was a virgin. "Rather surprising, actually."

"Why is that so surprising?" he replied incredulously, a bit insulted by the way she had put it, implying that the team wasn't capable of playing a good game on a normal basis when they're actually quite good. True, he may be a bit biased seeing that he's on the team but he's sure that they're not bad enough for her to seem surprised that they were good in that particular game.

"You've been rather distracted lately," she noted, tilting her head in that naïve/sexy way she seemed to do quite often around him, looking very much like a cross between a little girl and a vixen in her flowing skirt and her simple shirt, her head cocked to the side and folding her hands behind her back like a little kid trying to convince their parent to buy them something they don't really want to. "I wonder why that could be."

Scorpius watched her for a couple of seconds as if trying to decide whether or not she was serious and then scoffed, a louder sound than he had intended and one that didn't get his desired reaction because she merely smiled, a smile that was almost a smirk as she looked at him, her eyes sparkling again.

"I think you can imagine why," he retorted evenly, his voice void of any emotion, keeping his tone as empty as she seemed to like to keep hers when around him.

"Me?" she questioned, sounding quite innocent and looking just as innocent, her eyes widening slightly, unfolding her hands so she could put her one hand on her chest, as if motioning to herself in disbelief. "Now, why would you possible think that I would have even the slightest inkling as to why you happen to be as distracted as you've been lately? It isn't as though I were psychic, Malfoy."

"No, you're not," he agreed easily. "But you're manipulative, aren't you? You enjoy this little game that you have going on right now. And you're thoroughly convinced you're going to win. I don't think you consider me a worthy adversary."

"Game?" She arched one of her dark eyebrows at her, the shade of brown standing out as starkly against her skin as her messy hair did, hair that sat around her thin face in unruly waves, hair that didn't seem to be able to be untangled even if her life depended on it. "I don't have any clue what you're talking about."

"Come off of it," he requested tersely, heaving a bit of an annoyed sigh and reaching up to run his fingers through his pale blonde hair in frustration. "You know _exactly_ what game I'm talking about. The game _you_ started. That little challenge you issued."

"And what challenge might that be?"

"To figure you out."

"Figure me out?" The corners of her mouth turned up slightly, almost smiling. "Am I really that complex?"

"You know _exactly_ what you are."

"True," she conceded, glancing down at her bare feet once more and taking those delicate, dance like steps, one foot directly in front of the other as though she were walking on a very narrow beam and was trying to keep her balance. "I know what I am quite well. I don't, however, know what you _think_ I am. That most definitely remains a mystery to me."

"You're trying to play with my head," he accused, narrowing his eyes at her, watching her as though she were a snake ready to strike.

She paused then in her steps and threw her head back, laughing as though he had just said the funniest thing she could have ever imagined him saying, her eyes closed, hair blowing in the wind. She reached up, put her hand over her mouth to try to muffle the sound, her shoulders shaking with the amusement she was feeling. "Lovely," she finally managed to say once the laughter had subsided a little. "And why, pray tell, would I want to do that?"

"Haven't quite figured out your motive yet," he admitted, shrugging his shoulders a bit.

"Then perhaps its safer to assume that you're paranoid than to assume that I'm up to something," she suggested, looking over at him with one of her dark eyebrows arched again. "Paranoia can be a dangerous thing. You might want to look out for that."

"I'm _not_ paranoid," he insisted and then, without thinking about it and scarcely even realizing that he was going to do it he reached out and clasped his hand around her wrist, tugging on her arm, sending her tiny body forward so it nearly slammed into his chest and probably would have had if she hadn't stuck her hand out to brace herself, her fingers colliding with his chest.

"I'm not paranoid," he insisted again, his voice sharper this time even as she tilted her head up very slowly to look at him, her face betraying absolutely nothing. "I don't know _why_ but you've decided to play a little game with my head, to confuse me, to try to keep yourself this big mystery to me. You think you can win, that you're better at being a mystery than I am at figuring things out. You can deny it all you want but we both know that's the truth."

Then she did the strangest thing. She got this look on her face like she was truly concerned, her eyebrows knitting together, her head cocking slightly to the side in a completely innocent way, not a single bit of the sexuality she normally exuded in that act visible this time. "Are you ill?" she asked him quite seriously, reaching up with the hand that wasn't immobilized by his grip and pressing the back of her hand against his forehead as though checking for a fever. "Perhaps you should go to the hospital wing and have them give you a check, yeah?"

Narrowing his eyes at her he growled, a deep and dark sound that rumbled in the pit of his chest, and he reached up, grabbing that wrist in his hand as well, lowering it down from his face. "You know bloody well that I'm not ill," he hissed down at her and then he was moving, moving her backwards as he moved forwards, his eyes locked on hers, managing to find the amusement hidden within the blue orbs that she'd been trying so hard to hide.

Her back made contact with the tree which made them both stop abruptly, could have made him crush her against the tree if he hadn't been careful not to hurt her. As annoyed as he may be with her Scorpius Malfoy has never, ever been violent with a girl and he didn't intend to start now of all times. "You know that I'm not ill and I'm not paranoid so quite playing innocent. You aren't nearly as good at it as you think you are."

The corners of her mouth turned upwards again, turning up into a slight smile and she shifted a bit, settling more comfortably against the tree, pressing her lower body more firmly against his as she did so, teasing him because he knew she knew exactly what she was doing and meant absolutely nothing by it. "Oh, you let me get to you far too easily," she cooed at him like he was a child. "If you think you could ever possibly win any sort of a game with me when I can get you this upset this easily then I'm afraid you're dreaming, Malfoy."

"You're devious."

"Compliments will get you nowhere," she informed him evenly, cocking her head to the side again, this time going back to that naïve/sexy way, resting her head against the tree, her hair getting caught up in the bark as she sighs a bit in almost a resigned sort of way. "Is this the part where you berate me for being a prat?" she questioned. "Or are you thinking of something far more nefarious?"

"Good to know you think so lowly of me," he replied dryly, releasing her wrists but not stepping back from her, keeping her there so she can't do her dance like movements and step away from him this time like she had done last time; so she can't just make all of the rules in this little game. "I think you owe me an answer to a question, Weasley."

"Oh? And what question might that be?"

"The very same question that I asked you last time we spoke."

"Oh, Malfoy," she cooed again, reaching up and running the tips of her fingers down his cheek in an almost caressing fashion. "I never said I was going to answer questions, did I? If I never promised you answers how can you say I owe you them?"

"I answered you. Quid pro quo, Weasley. What's fair is fair."

"Who ever said anything about _fair_?"

"Games should be fair. What good is a game when you have the advantage?"

"Do I really have the advantage?"

"You know you do."

"My. How unfair of me." She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth as though she were scolding herself and then watched him for a couple of seconds before narrowing her eyes at him, almost smirking. "Why do you want to know if I'm a virgin or not, Malfoy? I told you why I was asking but why do you want to know?" she questions and then she _does_ smirk as she leans up a bit so her mouth is almost brushing against his. "You don't fancy me, do you Malfoy?"

Of course he didn't fancy her. She was fascinating to him, of course, but that wasn't the same thing. But still, standing there with her that close, with her lower half pressed against his, her breath warm on his face, the floral scent of her shampoo wafting into his nostrils the denial dies in his throat and it makes him forget for a couple of seconds.

"Malfoy! What the bloody hell do you think you're doing to my cousin?"

Rose smiled then, her eyes sparkling as she gazed up into his. "Hello, Albus," she called out softly and turned her head to look at her cousin. "Problem?"

_Score: Rose 2, Scorpius 1,_ he thought bitterly as he turned his head to look at her very, very annoyed looking cousin.


End file.
